Imagine, if you will, an old West Texas dancehall. One that the music of Johnny Dilks & His Visitacion Valley Boys is meant to resound in. Give it a recreation-room feel, with folding tables and hard metal chairs. If you give this dancehall a name, be certain it ends with the word "hall."

The men will have to be leading the women in dancing: men with cowboy hats, western-style shirts, string ties, and shiny black boots; women with frilly dresses and bad hair. There must be really strong punch in the punchbowl, and everything inside will have to appear old, low-rent, and authentic--unmistakably Western America.

Or perhaps the hall should be located some years ago in Visitacion Valley, a place just south of San Francisco that, while currently the home of much crime and a growing Chinese American population, was a hotbed for country music back in the 1940s. Visitacion Valley is also the place from which, as you may have guessed, Dilks' band takes its name.

I almost wrote "backing" band, because that's how the Visitacion Valley Boys seem to be credited; though to consider them as mere auxiliary or "support" to Johnny Dilks would be a disservice to their near-perfect swing, Dixieland, country, Cajun, and rockabilly sounds. The setup consists of Dilks on vocals and rhythm guitar; Brendan Ryan on double bass; Paul Wooton on lead guitar and harmony vocals; Billy Wilson on steel guitar; Brian Godchaux on fiddle, electric and acoustic mandolin, and harmony vocals; and two drummers, Pat Campbell and Ken Owen. Each of the players astounds, with referential excellence.

The hall I have asked you to imagine will smell of cheap cologne and plenty of booze and the promise of sex. If you were to enter the hall, you might believe--after hearing the music being played--that you are in the presence of Hank Williams. Dilks himself cites Williams, along with Bob and Billy Jack Wills, the Louvin Brothers, and yodeler Kenny Roberts as influences. And those influences are very strong here. Another artist Dilks claims to be very fond of is Bill Haley, when he was with the Saddlemen, but you may cite the Comets as an influence if you like, because you'll hear that Haley incarnation in Johnny Dilks as well.

It's an interesting phenomenon, this retro western-swing and honky-tonk sound. Dilks' retro contemporaries include the likes of Big Sandy and his Fly-Rite Boys, Deke Dickerson, the Lucky Stars, and Biller & Wakefield. But don't discredit Wilks, or any of the others, as mere trickle-down rehash, because Dilks and his Visitacion Valley Boys have spirit and talent in droves.

Let it be known that the best part about Dilks is his yodeling, and I would happily argue that Dilks is among the top five yodelers alive today. (I'm happy to argue that because I'm actually unable to name five yodelers.) In fact, I've replayed "Yodel Till I Turn Blue," from the band's debut, Acres of Heartache, about five times already this morning: "Yodelay-hee-yodelay- hee-yodelay-hee-[key change?]-yodelay-hee..." goes the refrain, ripping by so quickly that I almost suspect it's computer-generated (it's not).

Dilks is authentic, and that's his appeal, even as a retro artist. (Especially as a retro artist.) On "Comin' on Thru," Dilks sings about getting beaten up by a 300-pound man he foolishly attacks for dancing with a lady who doesn't love Dilks any longer. On the sad, campy "Acres of Heartache," Dilks sings about the acres of land he has set aside for himself and his true love, who has left him as well. Only Dilks will ever know whether these two objects of affection are, indeed, the same lady. His voice is a blast of breath from the gut, and there's a gritty, genuine feel to the humor and tongue-in-cheek bathos he parlays that makes Acres of Heartache perfect in its own small, cracked right.

I can't think of anything more lively and entertaining one could do in Seattle this week than to kick the dust off of some great, time-tested musical traditions.